Cohabitation
by trufflemores
Summary: 5.14 reaction fic. A Kurt-centric look at the six months leading up to Blaine's decision to move out of the loft. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Kurt loves having Blaine in New York. He loves waking up next to him and falling asleep beside him at night. He loves watching movies together and attending classes together and sharing a life together. He loves commiserating over coffee with him and sorting out their future plans together and, sometimes, just basking in existence together. With three other roommates to accommodate, alone time is scarce, but they make the most of it, and Kurt has never been so happy.

Or so utterly, inescapably claustrophobic.

He misses being alone with his thoughts, able to sit down and read a book for an hour or two while Rachel practices scales in the shower. He misses having the couch to himself sometimes, or being able to sit alone at the kitchen table with his own thoughts. He misses having only an internal alarm system to wake him up on Sunday mornings instead of the shuffling weight of Blaine slipping unsubtly out of bed to make them breakfast (and he can't complain, they _are _amazing, but sometimes he wishes he could sleep for years instead). He even misses sleeping alone sometimes and not having to adjust to the weight and warmth of another person, smothering during the heat of summer and sweltering under the sheets in the fall.

Kurt loves having Blaine in New York, but after spending almost a year on his own, it's hard to adjust to another person who wants to spend every moment of every day with him.

He tries to be generous about it. The novelty of New York hasn't faded for Blaine yet. While Kurt has found a comfortable rhythm against the swarm of humanity threatening to overwhelm and erase him, Blaine is still working on finding himself in the city. He wants to experience everything – with Kurt. For the first three weeks, Kurt is more than happy to oblige. After a month or so, he loses steam, preferring to spend a night in while Sam and Blaine go out together and check out some of the bars. It nags him that he can't keep up with his own fiancé, but then he remembers that he still has practical obligations – namely, a job at the Spotlight Diner – and Blaine doesn't.

Blaine can afford to be wild and free and stay up all night playing video games if he so desires. Kurt has a schedule and plans and special time reserved for himself that have to be observed. While Kurt is willing to relax the rules some nights, he treats them as a special occasion against a general construct of normalcy. Going out is the exception; staying in and soaking in every minute of relaxation that he can is the rule after a long day.

He can't help the guilt that surfaces when he refuses to go out the first time. Blaine's eyes lose a bit of their light before he brightens again and agrees to stay in, and at first it's a wonderful compromise filled with cool drinks and warm cuddles. Kurt thinks that maybe he actually _has _found his prince charming because, in spite of all the things that everyone else has said about romance and its many flaws, Blaine is _perfect._

It works well for the first two months. Sam and Blaine go out some nights; Artie joins them on occasion; and Kurt basks in solitude back at the loft. The separation makes Blaine's return even sweeter, a warm, enthusiastic hug all the more welcome after three quiet hours alone.

It works well until the air conditioner breaks and they can't get it repaired for almost a week. Sam spends the duration of it lying on the floor moaning about how hot he is; Artie wheels a portable fan with him everywhere he goes; and Rachel spends so much time in the studio avoiding the destructive heat that she almost lives there for a week. Left to their own devises, Kurt and Blaine struggle to cope with the heat, alternating between cold showers and lemonades and bringing each other cool towels to wipe down their faces.

At night, it's almost unbearable, even after they kick off the covers and suffer with only a flimsy sheet between them. Blaine is restless and Kurt is uncomfortable, constantly pulled out of a light sleep whenever Blaine rolls from one side to the next, pressed against Kurt's side regardless of how far away he shuffles on the bed. By day four, things are so tense that Kurt debates getting up and dousing Blaine with a cold bucket of water just to make him _stop twitching _before he finally drifts off to sleep for an hour before his alarm.

After the heat wave, things don't settle down as Kurt hopes they will; if anything, they get worse. Once Blaine decides that staying in with Kurt is preferable to going out with Sam every other night (especially once Sam's melancholic I'm-never-getting-a-job attitude sets in), Kurt's free time evaporates. He tries not to think about it that way, but he can't help it. Being alone is a breath of fresh air for him after a suffocating week surrounded by people that _need _him. For Blaine, Kurt is his anchor, his rock in the big city there to ground him when everything else is overwhelming.

Kurt knows why Blaine wants to be with him, and he knows that it's selfish to expect a few hours alone every night. Some nights they don't even speak as Kurt reads and Blaine sleeps on his stomach beside him, giving him time to process his thoughts separately if not alone. They drift invariably back to Blaine, his fingers drifting down to card through his hair until Blaine is all but purring in satisfaction, nestled against his side, Kurt's book long forgotten.

It shouldn't frustrate him after four months of living together that he doesn't have time to himself outside his work. He loves living with Blaine, and if living with Blaine means sacrificing his isolation (_freedom, _a voice whispers; _individuality, _it adds sinisterly), then he can handle it. He loses himself in his work, devouring hours in minutes as he flies from table to table, filling orders and smiling fake smiles at all the big names that pass through the doors. He tries to be as genuine as he can at first, but the hours are wearing and the tips only compensate for so much. By mid-month, his motivation is flagging and the summer heat is appalling, and it's hard to be happy to leave the workplace when he knows that he has to keep his bright spirits and show-smile firmly in place back at home, too.

He doesn't know why he feels such an overwhelming need to be calm and cool and collected in front of Blaine at all times. Perhaps it's the standard Blaine sets unconsciously, always immaculate and untouched by the rigors outside the loft, that push him towards perfection. Maybe it's his own need to make things work that drives him towards stoicism and compassion rather than snappishness and separation. Either way, he keeps his shoulders straight and his chin high and his smiles warm and in place when he slides the door to the loft open, braced for the ready embrace from Blaine and the ecstatic declaration of _"Kurt!"_

It's nice, being wanted, being needed so much. He loves being pampered and catered to, drinks always ready and food always prepared whenever he wants them. Blaine is almost compulsive about it, refusing to let him lift a finger if he can help it. Sometimes Kurt insists on preparing a meal himself, especially if it's late and he can see the sleep fogging Blaine's expression already; other nights, he lets Blaine handle it, knowing that it makes _him _happy to make Kurt happy.

That's all that he wants, really: to make Blaine happy. So he suffers through a long, busy summer in unbearable heat accompanied by almost suffocating togetherness until at last the summer begins to fade and the temperatures drop to more manageable levels. With the sweltering heat gone, he knows that his mood _should _improve, that his new lifestyle should come more easily after over four months at it.

Instead, he feels hollowed, scourged by the summer's heat and his vigorous daily routines. Exercise falls on the wayside, and he neglects his skin-care routines on more than one occasion to flop into bed helplessly after an exhausting night shift. He craves quiet and peace and aloneness like never before, and suddenly Blaine's closeness is no longer bearable but _intolerable._

So he snaps at him, echoing a deep, primal need for _himself _that resonates poorly between them and almost leads to a fight. Somehow, he manages to divert the conversation with an apology and an excuse, soothing ruffled feathers before Blaine can process the gravity of the insult.

Something must stick with Blaine, though, because he takes the hint seriously, spending more time with Rachel when Sam refuses. He ends up spending so much time with her that Kurt barely sees him some days, and while he knows he should feel guilty for the relief that wells up in him at having a chance to regroup, he can't regret the opportunity when it arises.

It's good for Blaine, too, validating his usefulness and desirability as a friend outside his appeal to Kurt. Rachel enjoys the extra attention, and everyone gets along more easily when they aren't in each other's space all the time. For the better part of a month, they manage to make it work smoothly, until finally Blaine detaches from Rachel as her rehearsals intensify once more and NYADA classes start.

The first week is awful for Blaine, exhausting and filled with disappointment. Kurt knows that Blaine never _expected _to be immediately liked, but he also sees how it hurts him to be picked on by strangers. There's a certain vulnerability to being reminded of one's faults by someone who has no reason to lie. Even knowing that it's absurd to fall prey to them (and that exaggeration and biting cruelty are as natural as breathing to many of them), Kurt can still sympathize with the frustration and stress that Blaine experiences as he acclimates to it.

After two weeks, Blaine rallies himself and learns to ignore the jibes, following Kurt's footsteps not to sink to their level and merely letting their comments brush off his back. After Midnight Madness, hardly anyone dares to speak poorly of Kurt, but Blaine is different because he's new, and it's no secret that Carmen Tibideaux actually likes him.

Kurt, too, finds himself at NYADA, invigorated by his familiarity with the workings of the school. It's no longer terrifying and new; it's familiar. He knows his way around the hallways and winding corridors, the fastest ways around campus and the best times to visit the cafeteria. He knows the best nooks to study in and where the open-access theaters are located. Most of all, he knows the people there, and he commands a certain respect from the sheer raw confidence he exudes that even the worst of the sycophants from before merely regard him with cool countenances before departing.

It will never be a perfect school, but it's _his _school. He's happy to have made it and certain that he's in the right place, even if he has to convince himself every day that it's worthwhile as his muscles ache and his spirits sink with the realization that he still hasn't _made it._

He will, someday, he's certain. He just has a long road ahead of him.

A long road and a loving fiancé to support him every step of the way. It's a comforting thought until it becomes literal; Blaine insists on walking him to school and to all of his classes. It's gentlemanly and sweet the first few times, making Kurt preen with pride as he strides past the other students, all but arm-in-arm with his fiancé, until it's a little suffocating, too. With Blaine to talk to, he doesn't have any time with his own thoughts, and he feels empty by the time they stroll back to the loft at the end of the day, operating on autopilot.

Blaine notices, of course, but he doesn't react. Kurt thinks it's because Blaine thinks that he's stressed and tired and therefore not talkative. So he fills the conversation for both of them and Kurt listens and hums along in the appropriate places and enjoys his company, even if he wishes it wasn't so pervasive all the time. He regrets the thought as soon as it arises because they're _engaged, _and married couples live together and surely they, too, should be able to live together.

Except it's different when Blaine is around because it isn't just Blaine that Kurt has to contend with. He has to appease his friends and appear presentable and calm and unruffled at all times. With Blaine alone, perhaps, he could afford to be vulnerable, but he likes the security of the loft too much to let it go, terrified that moving out with him would only worsen the clinginess.

By the sixth month, Kurt's close to his breaking point and not proud of it. He snaps at Blaine over little things, like his SodaStream machine (and if he doesn't throw it out by the end of the week, he'll be amazed at his own restraint) and his refusal to kick Sam out of the loft (because even Artie knows when to stay out of the loft and doesn't bum around on the couch all day). He hides his exasperation and insists that everything's fine when Blaine asks if it's _him _because of course it is, but Kurt doesn't dare say it.

And then Blaine buys a horrible, ratty old couch _infested _with bed bugs and Kurt almost kicks him out of the loft right then and there. Thankfully for Blaine, he's too preoccupied scrubbing every surface in the apartment and spraying all fabrics to actually follow through with the silent threat, but it lingers and festers and refuses to fade, even the next morning when he meets Elliot at the shop to talk about their band.

He doesn't mean to share his wounds with him – Kurt's good at keeping to himself, he's _good _at standing on his own – but he can't help but voice his frustration when Elliot asks him.

The responsible side of him wants to apologize as soon as the complaint is out of his mouth, but he can't bring himself to say the words. He _hates _how trapped he feels, and Elliot is his last option because everyone else leads to Blaine: all of them are Blaine's as much as his.

It startles him when Elliot announces that setting boundaries is a good thing.

It's hard to accept at first because he's been certain for so long that living together meant making necessary sacrifices until things worked out. Without any rewards in sight and only a continual loss of himself, Kurt feels hollowed out by the process. He's tried and tried to accept the little changes that Blaine makes in his life: from altering his room gradually until it's barely recognizable from a year ago to appearing in every aspect of his daily routine. They're inseparable, and for as often as Kurt reminds himself that it isn't a _bad _thing, he can't help but think that it isn't good, either.

Hearing from Elliot that boundaries are necessary startles him. He wants to believe that he's wrong, that maybe it is just Kurt and his irrational need to stand alone and be vulnerable alone (even though he knows how ridiculous the idea is when he's willing to be vulnerable with Blaine in so many other ways), but he can't help but listen and absorb and believe the message.

_You need time for yourself, to be yourself._

It resonates with him, making him feel calmer for the first time in – _months, _knowing that he isn't failing, he isn't some horrible, horrible fiancé who doesn't deserve Blaine's love and attention and affection. It's just – a lot, especially when he had so _little _of it before and so _much _now. Elliot's right: he needs space, and he doesn't just need time to adjust but he needs _space, _and so when he arrives at the loft he's ready to have an honest conversation with Blaine about it, invigorated by his _Rockstar _performance with Elliot.

Then he sees the neat boxes of yellow tape and every calm, rational thought flies out of his head as impotency and _rage _flush through him.

"What's this?" he demands because no other words are coming, and he's _yelling _at Blaine before he can stop himself because he can't trust him at all, he can't leave him alone for a _minute _without Blaine tearing down his old way of living and replacing it with the new.

It's all he has left, that formerly dingy, unmarked space, and seeing it occupied into such perfect boxes sets him off, fueling his anger until it reaches a fever pitch. He gives just as good as he gets, and his blood _boils _when Blaine throws everything about Elliot in his face.

_We're _just _friends._

_I bet you are._

The sneer is so obvious that Kurt has to keep himself from slapping him. "Calm down, psycho," he snaps instead, airing out his rage until there's nothing left and Blaine is gone, too, leaving him breathing heavily and alone in the middle of their apartment.

The first thing he does is tear down the tape, all of it, scraping his fingernails on the walls and stubbing his toe as he reaches behind a desk to yank a strand up. He bundles all of it into the trash, bristling with outrage, that Blaine could be so utterly and willfully _naïve _to think that he could just _change _everything and it would be all right.

Knowing that he'll suffocate if he stays in the loft, Kurt slams the door behind him as he hurries down the stairs, emerging onto the sidewalk and walking until his legs burn and his ears pound with his heartbeat.

Then he takes a taxi to the High Line and slowly, slowly remembers how to breathe, absorbing the good vibes surrounding him as passerby move without disturbing him and nature grows unimpeded.

The longer he stays, the less helpless he feels, guilt tugging at him as he realizes how much _he _overreacted. It isn't his space. It's supposed to be _theirs. _The more it becomes theirs, though, the less he feels like he owns, as if he must first surrender his whole life to Blaine before he can accept him into it. It's a terrifying prospect, and he spends hours considering his options before slowly coming to the conclusion that he can't live with Blaine like this.

He needs his space. He needs _his _space, and while he wants Blaine to be a part of his life more than anything else, he can't afford to lose himself in the process.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he looks around at the people and realizes that he won't lose himself in the city. He knows who he is, what he wants. He knows how to get there, even if the road is long and hard and seemingly impossible. He knows that he can overcome whatever obstacles are thrown at him because he is and always shall be _himself._

And, no matter what, he can't give that up. Not even for Blaine.

So he takes a taxi back to the loft after checking his phone for the first time in hours and finding a text from Elliot explaining that Blaine stopped by before leaving. By the time Kurt gets back to the loft, it's been almost six hours since he's heard any word about Blaine, and worry creeps past his determination to stand his ground as he debates calling Blaine to check on him. It's still a big city with dangers and unexpected complications; for all he knows, Blaine's hurt or lost or kidnapped.

Before his fears can manifest into coherent worries, however, the door slides open and Blaine is there, humble, downtrodden, subdued. Kurt lets him speak, very still, very quiet, and wonders how he's going to explain the feeling swelling in his chest.

"I actually took a water taxi to the Statue of Liberty," Blaine says, meeting his gaze evenly. "Just needed some time to think."

"I went to the High Line, to do the same," Kurt admits.

There's a moment of silence, then, a beat where neither of them know what to say in light of their new information before Blaine asks carefully, "Can I go first?"

Kurt nods, not trusting his own voice, and almost chokes at Blaine's next words.

"I think I should move out."

Shakily, drawing in a deep breath to compose himself but still feeling fragile because _no, no, no, _Kurt says softly, "I don't know if that's what I want."

"Me neither," Blaine hastens to assure, and there's something in his eyes, then, something mellowed, something thoughtful that keeps Kurt from reaching out and insisting that he stay. Surely they can work it out, he thinks, even knowing that they haven't been able to for six months. Surely they can devise _some _alternative, he thinks, even knowing that they've tried so much and only managed to make things worse in the process.

"But I think we need to take a step back, together, and look at the situation honestly," Blaine continues, stepping forward and sitting carefully on the couch beside him.

His eyes are bright with an unspoken emotion, and Kurt can feel the dread welling in his chest even as Blaine lets out an almost anguished groan as he explains, "It's not working out. After graduation, I just moved in and we didn't even have a conversation about it. We never weighed the pros and cons, we never really discussed if this was the absolute _best _thing for our relationship."

Ruefully, surprised at how surprised he is that _Blaine _knows how hard things have been and how impossible it is to ignore the reality, Kurt admits, "We just wanted to be us, together."

"And we are together," Blaine agrees, shuffling closer and meeting his gaze, wide-eyed and sincere. "We are _so _together. But I just – think that maybe living together in less than ideal circumstances. . . ."

"Maybe we don't need that pressure right now," Kurt concludes softly, already knowing in his heart that it's true. He loves Blaine – he always has and always will, even though there was a time when he wondered if he did or ever could again – but he knows that he can't _live _like this anymore, struggling to keep a hold on himself and all the changes taking place in his life.

He hasn't figured himself out yet, and the realization that he still has to work that out startles him. Even more, it confirms the feeling that what Blaine is suggesting is _right, _that a little time apart is exactly what they need.

_It won't be long, _a small voice whispers, and he gives voice to the fears aloud because he can't stop them, can't forget what happened even after so long, and Blaine's quick to reassure him even as he chokes out, "We can't go backwards."

"We're not going backwards," Blaine says firmly, and there is nothing in the world Kurt believes in more than the conviction in Blaine's tone then. "I think we're being smart."

"By protecting something that is very precious to me," Kurt finishes, and the way Blaine's eyes soften around the edges with relief makes Kurt want to hold him and let the rest fade away. It might not be easy living with him when reality sharpens all the things that fantasy never quite acknowledges, but it's still impossible to imagine a life apart from him, and he needs Blaine to know that he's precious to him, he is _the _one for him.

"You know that, right?" he asks, and Blaine's response is so _sure, _so full of love and relief and a bit of regret that they're perfect life _hasn't _worked out perfectly that Kurt can't feel anything but a profound sense of rightness then.

He needs the hug more than he's ever _needed _one, rubbing his hand slowly up and down Blaine's back and holding onto him, needing him to know that this isn't the end of _them. _It can't be; Kurt won't let it be.

It's a road bump. It's something to be overcome, to be worked out.

They can't do it when they're constantly in each other's space, but . . . maybe they can do it alone, and when they come together again they'll know how to be together and apart, and it'll all work out.

It has to.

When they break apart, Blaine's expression is still solemn, and Kurt knows he must look the same, hollowed, taken apart.

"No matter who we become, even if we do need alone time – which is completely valid – we'll always belong to each other," he says, and he feels better knowing that there is no more mystery between them. They know each other – they're _meant _for each other – but they still have growing and learning and processing to do. And the loft isn't the best environment for all that. Not yet, anyway, and maybe not ever. But they won't be apart forever, and Kurt intends to be ready once they make the leap, ready to move in with him and share his whole life with him.

The kiss comes so naturally, then, passionate and sweet and perfect, and he leans into it and feels revived, renewed to his soul, even as they tilt apart just so and Blaine presses kiss after kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, lower still. "And even though this wasn't a fight," he says, voice going breathier as Blaine mouths his way to his neck, "this was just, you know, a grown-up, adult conversation." He loses his train of thought with a silent, subtle shiver when Blaine kisses just under his ear, finishing huskily, "We are now going to have the _hottest_ makeup sex ever now."

He's on his feet and tugging Blaine along after him without hesitation because even struggling and uncertain and slowly taking steps towards a future together by stepping back from each other, there is one thing he knows with absolute certainty, and that is that he loves Blaine and he loves _loving _Blaine, and he can't help the gravity between them, pulling them together even when everything else seems to fall apart.

And later, with Blaine asleep in his arms and so warm, so sated, so perfectly, amazingly, wonderfully content, Kurt can't help but think that as long as this part of them is still whole, then all else will fall into place eventually, too. They might not be ready for everything yet, but they still know each other, they still _love _each other, and nothing can ever change that.

Closing his eyes and keeping an arm draped protectively over Blaine, Kurt lets sleep overtake him, and for the first time in months he sleeps deeply, peacefully, and profoundly at ease that all will be well.


End file.
